


My Hearts Devastation

by SketchLockwood



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the last day of 1460 Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York died and was beheaded at the battle of Wakefield. With him died much of the Yorkist army. What happens when Cecily Neville searches for her husband and son in a state of emotional agony? Who does she find and what? What happens when those who were meant to be safely in Wales were not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Hearts Devastation

Cecily panicked as she watched the blood soaked stretcher be carried through.. She didn't see the mans face, she cared only for one thing. Richard. Where was her Richard? She had heard of Edmund and his encounter with Clifford, that had been her draw to the battlefield and now she stood horrified. One stretcher after another was carried by the few who could walk, or the minority who took pity. None held men she knew, among the dying and wounded she saw no sign of her husband.

She walked, stepping carefully to avoid the piled up dead. She cared not for the blood soaked snow, to avoid it would have been impossible. She looked up as men approached, sobbing filled her ears. Her heart stopped it beat as she looked at the blood drenched stretcher, eyes fixing on the face she knew, for once looking so pained. "Ma mere!" His call was muffled by sobs, she could hear his will to scream.

It took but a moment for her to catch up with the men carrying her, the familiar face of Robert Aspell among them. He was on her in a second, no sooner had he started his speech than she was holding his side of the stretcher. "Clifford he... He stabbed him and.... He's going to." The boy broke down in tears before Cecily. Her regret was that she could not comfort the boy. He followed in sobs, wiping trauma filled tears from his face as they entered the keep. Thankful that the local lords had taken pity for York.

"Edmund stay awake." Cecily stroked the boys cheek, wiping blood with her sleeve, crying only as a weak hand reached for hers. The physicians were upon him in a second. Ignoring each sob in their heartless determination. She watched in tears as her son begged for death, whimpering as each needle touched his tender skin. It was minutes before his eyes closed and his grip weakened to a stroke. And then nothing. The doctors kept to their sewing, one tending to the leg he claimed barely worth attending. She knew where this would lead, Richard had warned her of injuries in battle enough for her to know.

She walked away and hung her head as she sat on the settle finally letting her emotions win, tears flooded from her eyes. She felt a hand upon hers, jumped hoping it would be Richard. It was not, the handsome face of a boy barely a man looked at her. Intense eyes holding her, pausing her before uncontrolled sobs. Kneeling in blood stained armour was Edward. She did not think as she took the boy in her arms listening to the whimpers of pain and sobs of terror. "Oh Edward, I'd have known. Sweeting you were not supposed to be at Wakefield."

"I finished at Ludlow, I heard of Somersets plans I raced like the devil ma mere but.." He burst into tears like none she had seen before. His body shaking as he sobbed. It took two men to lift him to the bench so she could hold him. Her hand working at the straps of his armour, slipping the metal from his body. His words were barely whispers as he finished "I failed and papa is dead." "Edward, you-" she gulped and took his hand, trying hard for strength to comfort her child. "You know that?" "I saw it ma mere, they killed him and took his head, after taunting him." He shook his head wiping tears. "It was shameful."

"There is nothing more to be done my lord but avenge my husbands death." She felt Edward tense. Heard the clink of armour and noticed the pure anger in Edwards eye. Two men had crossed the threshold. Men she knew too well. "My lords. Clifford, Somerset. What brings you here?"

"My lord of March-"

"The duke of York by his fathers death lord Clifford." She saw Clifford's eyes go to the table where Edmund lay still.

"If god does bring me fortune I shall have two in one day."

"You cannot! That is murder!" Cecily objected standing between the men and her son. Shivering as as heard Edward draw his sword.

"It is not murder madam when the boy is armed and under charges of treason."

"He is heir to the throne by law! When Henry dies he is your king!"

"But not king now." Clifford smiled as he said the words throwing Cecily aside like a discarded toy. Somerset held her as Edward was seized, the sword ripped from his hand. She broke away, chasing Clifford. She stopped in the snow as she watched Edward hit the floor, roll as the blade almost connected with flesh. Again. The third time saw blood drawn. She heard the sound as the sword impacted, cutting deep into flesh. She heard the scream and ran. Kneeling by Edwards side, mopping blood with velvet.

She looked at the blade, broken in his abdomen. Tears left her eyes as he choked, coughing blood through tears of agony. Little attention was paid as the Lancastrians fled. "Edward." She stroked his cheek in a desperate plea for her sons attention "oh Edward, no, not now not like this! Don't leave George this responsibility. You cannot! Edward!" She watched as the last breaths came as struggled music before she laid him in the snow giving in to the agony she felt.

She hardly noticed as the man lifted her, half dragging her inside. She shivered in the blankets as she sat by the fire. How could it have happened, minutes ago Edward was alive and well, now he lay dead in the snow at Wakefield.. He should have been in Wales, he should have been safe. She looked up as the hand touched hers, Robert was one of the sweetest boys she knew. He stood and took her hand guiding her through the halls, opening the door to a large bed chamber.

She laid upon the bed as instructed, giving in to pure exhaustion. When she awoke it was to singing. Gentle male words and wet cloths upon her head. Soft hands laboured to keep her comfortable as he sung songs of love without war. How she longed that could be so. "Richard?"

"No ma mere, not Richard."

"Edward? How could it be-"

"Ma mere, Edward, he..."The boy set to sobs

"Edmund?" She sat up quickly making him jump back. "Oh Edmund." She took the boy in her arms without warning, gently laying a kiss upon his cheek, wiping hair from his face. "My darling, oh sweeting."


End file.
